


Come Back, Be Here

by RecklessWriter



Category: Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Book 3: City of Glass, F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-12
Updated: 2014-08-12
Packaged: 2018-02-12 19:55:11
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,934
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2122650
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RecklessWriter/pseuds/RecklessWriter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>"I love you, Lucian. I think a part of me always has."</i>
</p><p> After his confession, Luke plans to stay in Idris and take the Council seat for the werewolves. But Jocelyn isn’t about to let him go a second time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Come Back, Be Here

**Author's Note:**

> This is my version of the missing scene from the City of Glass, where Clary tells her mother to go after Luke after he tells Jocelyn he loves her.

_“If you don’t go after Luke, I, personally, will kill you.”_

Her daughter’s words rang through her ears, a constant, determined litany, as she raced down the steps and through the streets, taking off after the one who sought to leave her, the one who she had mistakenly sent away. She left Clary and Amatis far behind, forcing further exertion on her legs as her strides lengthened, the sound of her feet hitting the concrete pounding in time with her heart beat. Her muscles weren’t used to working themselves to these type of speeds, not after abandoning the Shadow World for so long, not to mention that she had been nothing but a vegetable these past few weeks, stuck in a magically-induced coma. But still, she ordered her limbs to stop their bitching as she continued onward.

 _Luke, Luke, Luke_. Her whole being seemed to scream it, urging her forward as she put on impossible speed. He was probably already at the Accords Hall by now, gallantly accepting their offer of representing the Moon’s Children on the Council. She would be too late, and then she would lose him again. She had already lost him twice: once when she thought him to be dead, slain by his own hand, and another when she had run from Shadow World, allowing him to walk out of her life and telling him to never come back. She couldn’t allow herself to lose him now. She didn’t know what would become of her then, or Clary who thought of him as she would a father.

She had allowed him to walk out of her life once, and hadn’t called him back. She wouldn’t make the same mistake twice.

_“I love you, Jocelyn. I have for twenty years.”_

The breath heaved in and out of her lungs. Her legs pumped as her head searched above the crowd, trying to catch sight of that familiar mop of dark hair. Raziel, how hadn’t she noticed? How hadn’t she _seen_? Had she been so blind that she couldn’t even spy what was right in front of her? Amatis knew, Clary knew, for Angel’s sake, even _Magnus fucking_ _Bane_ had known! And she had been nothing but oblivious.

Luke was in love with her.

Oh, how obvious it seemed now. Perhaps on some inner level, a part of her had always known, had always knew the truth of Lucian’s feelings. He had sacrificed everything for her, and for Clary, whom he raised as if she were his daughter, caring naught of Valentine’s blood that ran through the girl’s veins. He loved her as if she were his own. And that had only made Jocelyn fall even deeper in love with him, though of course, she hadn’t realized at the time.

 _Love_ , Jocelyn thought, _such a complicated, complex word._

Luke had offered to marry her once, she recalled, after the Uprising, after the death of her parents and the “supposed” death of Valentine and her son ( _monster, not her son, a_ _monster_ ). At the time she had believed that he had only been being chivalrous; it seemed like the sort of selfless, self-sacrificing thing that Luke would do, put everything on the line to protect her, something only a _friend_ would be willing to commit themselves to. But now she had to wonder if his unexpected offer of marriage had meant more than that to him.

She had turned him down, of course. She could never ask Lucian, her oldest and dearest friend, to submit to something like that for her, to give up his chance of happiness in life. So she had made yet another mistake when it came to him, and had sent him away, for what she thought to be his own good. He didn’t deserve someone like her mucking up his life. And she had reinvented herself, from Jocelyn Fairchild to Jocelyn Fray, an ordinary, mundane single mother. But Luke had, of course, tracked her down again. He always did know where to find her, no matter where she was.

Perhaps she had been scared. A part of her had always known that Luke had held feelings for her, and that she held those same feelings in return. But she, the legendary Jocelyn Fairchild, had been afraid. Afraid of getting too close, afraid of getting hurt by someone she trusted beyond all measure. After all, she had trusted Valentine, and look how that turned out.

She hadn’t been ready then. But she was now. She couldn’t just let him turn his back on her – on _them_ – without even letting him know how she felt.

Because she loved him, she realized with a jolt, as she weaved in and out of the throngs of people loitering on Alicante’s streets. She had loved him for a while, now.

_“I love you, Jocelyn.”_

She couldn’t let him stay here.

She couldn’t let him leave her again.

_“I love you.”_

“Luke!”

And there he was, walking through the parted crowd, wind blowing his hair back from his face. His back was to her, and through the noise of all the chattering he hadn’t seemed to hear the yell of his name – or perhaps he was only ignoring her. His shoulders were slumped, his posture stiff, and Jocelyn could practically picture the dejected expression he must have been wearing, the hurt glint in his eyes. It made her heart ache, especially knowing she had been the one to put it there.

_I love you, I love you, I love you._

_Lucian. Please._

Jocelyn yelled for him again, her voice louder this time, and maybe slightly pleading. She weaved through the standers-by, shortening the distance between the two of them. “Lucian! Please, wait!”

He froze that time, turned, and a numerous number of emotions passed his face in a matter of seconds. Surprise, shock, hope, sorrow, pain, before finally landing on a stoic expression that Jocelyn flinched under, unused to having such a cold expression directed her way by him.

“Jocelyn,” he greeted expressionlessly. They now stood only about two feet apart. “I already told you that I’m not leaving. I’m staying. You’ve made it clear how you feel.”

“So it’s true, then? You really do love me? And for that long?”

He looked at her, her petite but strong figure, her long red locks blowing around her in the wind like a fiery tornado. Perfect. Angelic. Flawless. Something in his face broke then, and he told her softly, ‘Yes, I love you. I’m pretty sure I have from the first time I laid eyes on you.”

Jocelyn inhaled a strangled breath at his words, unprepared for the knot of emotion that formed in her chest, and the constricting of her throat. “Luke,” she mumbled, reaching up a hand to slide it along the side of his jaw. The skin there was rough, as if he needed a shave. “Why didn’t you ever tell me?”

He wanted to tear his eyes away from hers, but for some reason, he couldn’t. “I didn’t want to damage our relationship as friends,” he told her honestly. “And I didn’t want you to feel pressured to feel that certain way about me, when you obviously don’t.”

Pain flashed in his eyes, which she had always been able to read like an open book, and Jocelyn’s gut clenched. _But I do! I do feel that way!_ she wanted to tell him. But the words wouldn’t come out; her lips seemed unable to move.

So she did the only other thing she could think to do to get her point across to him – without allowing herself to think fully on what she was doing, she grabbed him by with both hands by the lapel of his jacket, yanked him forward, and smashed her mouth onto his.

It was very sudden and unexpected – her mouth was dry, and Luke had seemed to go stiff, shocked, his lips unresponsive against hers. Jocelyn felt her face flame in embarrassment – an unattractive combination with her fiery hair – and, thinking she had crossed her boundaries, began to pull back, but just then Luke seemed to snap out of his stunned gaze, as he began to process, and his lips moved with hers, hand coming up to gently cup her cheek. He wound his left arm around her waist and tugged her closer, and Jocelyn complied willingly, taking comfort in his embrace in a way she never had before, their bodies pressed together, having no care for the dozens of onlookers surrounding them.

A warmth had bloomed inside her stomach, spreading through her body and down to her toes. She felt dizzy with the euphoria that had come over her, reaching to wind her arms tighter around Luke, entangling her fingers in the hair near the nape of his neck. Valentine had never made her feel like this – his kisses had been fierce and dangerous, like he had been trying to consume her; the danger had been part of what had attracted her to him in the first place, being as young and naïve as she was.

But with Luke – wrapped up in his arms, she felt safe, and secure, and loved, and his kisses were gentle and loving, holding none of the danger that Valentine’s had, but still not anywhere less passionate. He was the epitome of all things familiar – he was like coming home.

Luke nibbled slightly on her bottom lip and she gasped, granting his tongue excess to her mouth. She ran her own tongue over his lips slightly, and he let out a groan, half desire, half reluctance.

“Jocelyn,” he groaned as he pulled back, though his hold on her didn’t loosen. Heaving in shallow breaths, Jocelyn’s cheeks colored as she remembered that they were standing in the center of the streets of Alicante, and that they had just given the residents standing by a private show. She didn’t know what she had been thinking; she had just meant to kiss Luke, to show to him how she felt. She hadn’t meant for it to escalate that far. She wasn’t _that_ woman, the one who made a habit of making out with guys in public places where everyone could see. Not even as a teenager had she been so blatant with signs of affection (that had been more Maryse’s style, with her new boyfriend of the week).

Jocelyn looked around at all the Downworlders and fellow Shadowhunters that were staring openly at them, not bothering to hide their stares. She scowled. “What are you all looking at?” she demanded. They all immediately averted their eyes, going about their business as usual.

Luke chuckled lowly, amused. “That’s my girl,” he said fondly. And then his expression changed, suddenly looking uncomfortable around her, like how he had looked when he had been confessing his love to her at Amatis’s, and when he had asked her to marry him all those years ago. He unwound his arm from her waist, stepping back, suddenly self-conscious of how close together they were standing, so close that he could feel her body warmth. He gulped, and, his hand still on her cheek, moved to pull his hand back, but Jocelyn’s hand came up to cover his, holding it there.

“Don’t, Lucian,” she told him softly. “Don’t shut me out.”

Luke stared at her dumbly, eyes transfixed on her face. All it seemed he could think about was her hand covering his, the memory of her lips on his. There was an emotion in her eyes – one that he thought he recognized, but didn’t dare begin to hope. “Jocelyn,” he pulled his hand forcefully away from her face, shaking his head. “We can’t do this. I can’t stand by and keep my feelings to myself anymore, they’re too strong.” He stepped away, starting to turn around.

Jocelyn’s hand sprang out to grip his forearm, holding him in place. Her heart thudded loudly in her chest, and it felt like it had suddenly jumped into her throat. “Please, Luke . . . don’t stay here. Come back to New York with us. Clary needs you. I . . . I need you.”

He paused for a moment. “That’s not enough, Jocelyn.”

He turned his back to her. He began to walk away.

 _No._ Panic gripped her. Her eyes stung with tears that she refused to shed. _No, no, no!_

“Luke . . . Luke, I . . . _I love you_!”

It wasn’t exactly how she had imagined her confession going, screaming it at his back in the middle of the street, but there she had it. And it had the desired effect.

Luke spun around. He made his way back to her and gripped her tightly by the arms. There was a frantic hope coming to life deep within his eyes. “ _What did you just say_?”

“I said I love you,” she repeated honestly. She took a step forward to hold his face in her hands, and this time he didn’t move away. “I love you, Lucian. I think a part of me always has.” Her voice was filled with emotion, and for a moment she allowed her protective walls to come down so he could see her as she was in this moment: raw, vulnerable. “But I was _scared_ , Lucian. Scared that if I let my walls come down and let you in, into my heart, then you would hurt me just as Valentine had, and I wouldn’t be able to take that a second time. I thought that letting you into my heart meant that I eventually had to lose you. Again. And you and Clary are all I have. I love you more than anything, and I realize now that it has taken me way too long to notice.

“Please, Lucian, I’m _begging_ you. You’ve walked out of my life twice now, and both times I’ve let you and didn’t say a word to call you back. When Valentine told me that you had killed yourself after Changing for the first time, it was the worst pain imaginable. I wasn’t even aware that one person could feel so much pain. It was like my heart had been ripped from my chest, killed along with you in those woods that night. I couldn’t eat, I couldn’t sleep; I cried myself to sleep at night not caring that Valentine heard. I felt lost. You were my confidant, my best friend, and you were just _gone._ When Ragnor brought me to you that day, it was the best of my life.

“And then you left again. And this time, not only did I not stop you, but I practically pushed you out the door myself. And I was fine; I transformed from Jocelyn Fairchild to Jocelyn Fray, an ordinary, mundane single mother. I made a life for myself. I had my daughter, and she was beautiful and full of light and the opposite of everything that Jonathon was, and I couldn’t be more relieved. I loved her with all my heart, and yet each day when I woke up I couldn’t help feeling like there was something missing. A hole. It was you, Lucian. I should have never let you walk out that door that day.”

Luke looked stricken and shocked, guilt for his previous actions shining in his eyes. Jocelyn had never told him that before – any of it.

During this speech, Jocelyn realized that her eyes had been burning rather persistently with tears. Furious and embarrassed with herself, she blinked and wiped them away before they could have the chance to fall. She rarely ever cried – even in front of Luke, who had known her close to her entire life. As a Shadowhunter, she had been taught that crying was vulnerability, something the enemy would try to exploit. Of course, Luke wasn’t the enemy, and she shouldn’t worry about him judging her, but that didn’t mean it still wasn’t humiliating.

Luke had been ecstatic when she had admitted her love for him – never in his wildest dreams had he allowed himself to hope that she might return his affections – but now, he could no longer take delight in her declaration. In all their years, he had never known that his absence had caused her so much grief.

“God, Jocelyn.” He reached out and brushed away the stray wetness on her cheeks, pulling her to him and wrapping his strong arms around her. Her chin rested on his shoulder, and she was pretty sure that a few of her remaining tears were staining his jacket, but he didn’t seem to care. “I never knew. Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I felt like I was being selfish,” confessed Jocelyn. “I felt as if I was taking your life away from you by asking you to stay. Plus . . .” she hesitated before admitting, “it made me feel weak.” And she _hated_ seeming weak.

Luke pulled back a bit to look at her, incredulous. “Weak? Jocelyn, you’re the strongest person I know. You could never seem weak to me.”

Jocelyn smiled a bit at that. He was always telling her how strong-willed she was. “You know I love you, right?” She wound her arms loosely around his neck and smiled up at him.

A large grin stretched across his face. “No. But I do now.”

She leaned forward, as if to kiss him. “Stay with me, okay?” she whispered against his lips. “And Clary? She needs you. Please, come home.” Then, softer, “Don’t leave me again.”

He gripped her tighter. Their foreheads touched. “Never,” he promised.

She smiled, eyes shining. “I’ll hold you to that.”

They kissed under the stars, heedless to the world around them.

**Author's Note:**

> I feel Jocelyn was a bit OOC near the end ... what do you think, was she In Character? I hope so. Anyway, please leave kudos and please review. There is way too little Joceluke fics out there.


End file.
